The above video is how I feel right now. I thought I was going for a leisurely ride but instead I was flung off a widely spinning thing. I don’t even know what to call it.
I am so exhausted.
That’s all I can say. I am exhausted. I had all of these lovely ideas in my head- words that would make complete sense. Words that would make me sound articulate and funny and interesting. Words that would be laced in gold. Words that would lead me to my future.
Instead, I am empty. Devoid of all thought and feeling- I’m quite certain my heart was destroyed a long time ago. I know it’s silly to say that but I cannot feel anything but pain. Chin up, it’ll get better. Soldier on. Oh, I would love to, but my dreams, they call to me. I feel as though my body is trapping everything that I am inside a vessel too small to hold my soul. I want to be someone else. I want to flee this wreckage of a life. I want to close my eyes and be gone.
It is these moments where a person chooses- down to the darkness and into the desire to die; or reject that notion and push on despite the damage done to your soul. It would be so easy to give up and to give in to the desire to never wake again.
How sweet that sounds to my tired mind.
For a mind that is certain people think ill of it; that blessed darkness is a thing craved with every fiber of its being- that emptiness is what I want. I am privileged oh, I’ve live such a fabulous life. My thoughts trickle down and around and spin like a maddening sand storm ripping my hopes to shreds. You are stupid, idiotic and silly- how dare you share what you feel. You are ignorant, egotistical and weak. Oh, you are stupid.
How do I know myself when I question everything about me. I begin to wonder if I am lying but I know I’m not (do I really know or am I a falsehood?) That is the problem- I think too much. Yet, I have not met someone who is able to pull me out of this spiral- I haven’t become her yet. I dream of companionship; of the knowledge that I am safe- that my base needs are met. I dream of a day when I won’t wonder if I’ll make it to tomorrow. I dream of a day when I don’t have to wish I could make a cake, bake said cake, eat said cake and clean up after baking said cake.
There is that saying- you are making a mountain out of a molehill, well I love to make a continent out of an ant hill. Oh, but if you haven’t realized by now she (me) is getting mad/ angry that I write about this, because she (me) believes the emotions and sharing those emotions exposes the proverbial belly to the enemy. Afterall, being human is weak and wishing for someone to take the sting out of life is utterly insane. For all the good men are taken and the rest are man-boys who think only of themselves. I am bitter to be sure, but just know that they always leave whether by choice or by design or by subtle pushes they leave.
The top spins non-stop and maybe that is why I cannot finish a story. Maybe, this uncertain reality has made writing an ending impossible. I desire a happy ending- I want to be proven wrong; but I can’t help but feel as though I will be proven correct.
What a sad thing to feel.
So spin on you silly top, spin and spin and throw me as you may.